


The Starter Home

by sophie_448



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: Most of the demons are gone and Sam convinces Dean that maybe it's time to settle down.





	The Starter Home

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't exactly been full of the holiday spirit this year, but I always love giving presents, so I definitely wanted to do something for you guys. [](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://shadowc44.livejournal.com/)**shadowc44** suggested this story which has been long languishing on my hard drive. This was intended to be a much longer story, perhaps even a verse, but it never really came about. What I offer here is just a brief, schmoopy little piece about the boys being happy. Also, it contains the first porn I ever wrote. Yes, ever. I'm sorry if it's not really up to par, but I restrained myself from editing because I thought it would be unfair to say it was my first porn and then tweak it to make it better. Anyways, I'm gonna shut up and give you the story now. Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy it!

Dean’s eyes darted back and forth furtively, the way they did when he expected a zombie, or a vengeful spirit, or a vampire to jump out at any moment. His right hand clenched reflexively and he really wished there was a gun in it, but he was unarmed. Anyway, none of the weapons in the Winchesters’ rather impressive arsenal could defend him against what he faced now. He turned to his right, drawing back slightly from his brother. “Sam,” he said, deadly serious, “You’re possessed again, aren’t you?”

Clearly not appreciating the dire nature of the situation, Sam burst out laughing in that absolutely carefree way that never failed to melt his older brother’s heart. “No, Dean, I’m not possessed. I’m not sure there are any demons left out there to possess people after what we just did.”  
In the process of breaking Dean’s deal, a whole lot of demons had ended up getting destroyed; most if not all of the ones they had let through the gate last year were gone. Really, they agreed, it had been rather cathartic.

So now they were somewhat adrift, trying to figure out what to do with their lives now that they had a choice. Of course, as Dean had repeatedly pointed out, there would always be some kind of supernatural evil to hunt. But then again, as Sam had repeatedly retorted, hunting didn’t have to be their whole lives. This was his effort to prove it.

“Sammy, I would really prefer to think that there’s a demon controlling you than that you actually thought this up on your own.”

“Oh come on! It’s not that bad.”

Dean gave his brother a plaintive look. “Not that bad? It’s a- It’s a- a-“

Sam’s lips twitched as he tried not to laugh again. “It’s ok. You can say it.”

“It’s a cottage!”

It was, indeed, a cottage, complete with picket fence. Of course the realtor had referred to it as a “starter home,” but that didn’t change its true nature. To the left of the small entranceway where they stood was the kitchen. On their right was a coat closet and straight ahead, taking up the entire back half of the ground floor, was the living room. It was open to the gabled roof, complete with attractive rafters that Sam wasn’t entirely sure actually had any functional value. Once there, a door on the right led into a spare room that could either be a guest bedroom or an office. Sam suspected that it would soon resemble a serial killer’s lair, walls plastered with newspaper articles and a good portion of their weapons carefully hidden away behind closed doors.

To the left, a flight of stairs led to the bedroom that occupied the space above the kitchen, spare room, and entranceway. It was tucked snugly into the peak of the roof and the ceiling and rafters were painted white, giving the relatively small loft a more open feel. Sam hoped that Dean would like the king size bed that dominated the space, but of course he wouldn’t know until he managed to convince his brother to leave the front hall. It would be a shame if he refused to even look at the rest of the house.

Sam cringed inwardly when he thought of what he had done to acquire this little piece of normalcy. Normalcy, of course, was a relative term when you were purchasing a home to share with your brother who was also your lover, but moving right along! Credit card fraud paled in comparison to the kind of subterfuge necessary to acquire a whole house, no matter how small and quaint.

These reflections gave Sam an idea. His eyes lit up the way they did when he knew he was going to get his way. “Come on, Dean!” he said, his voice taking on a wheedling tone, “I committed massive fraud to get it. Aren’t you proud?”

Dean gave him an appraising look, quickly losing his inward battle against the combined allure of those puppy dog eyes and the idea of ill-gotten gains. “All right, Sammy, go on and show me then.” Sam’s thousand-watt grin nearly blinded him.

“I know you’re gonna love it!”

Dean felt a good deal less certain on this point, but with superhuman effort, he restrained the half dozen or so smartass comments that sprang to mind and followed his brother into their—he suppressed a shudder—cottage.

 

***

A few days later, Dean was in the kitchen, staring in mystification at the array of cookware contained therein, when the doorbell rang. He heard Sam groan from the living room where he had been curled up on the couch with a book for several hours. Dean mentally started counting. Before he reached three, the call came.  
“Dean!” Sam whined, “Will you get that?” Dean smirked. So predictable.

“Sure thing, Sammy,” he answered. A grin was still playing about his lips as he opened the door, but his jaw dropped in horror at what he saw there. He promptly slammed the door and ran for the living room. His eyes wide with terror, he skidded to a halt beside the couch, Sam had tossed the book aside and was halfway to his feet by the time Dean got there.

“Sam! Sammy, you gotta help me,” he exclaimed, panting.

“What is it?” Sam asked, snapping into hunter readiness immediately and heading for the “study,” where they had stored most of their weapons. Dean’s eyes darted left and right and he took a breath to speak twice before he actually managed to name the horror that faced them now.

“Neighbors.”

Sam froze with his hand on the doorknob. “Neighbors?” he repeated incredulously. Dean nodded in mute terror. Sam brain caught up with them at that moment and he gave his brother a horrified look. “Did you just slam the door in our neighbors’ faces?” Another nod. Sam shook his head in disbelief, caught somewhere between anger and indulgent amusement. He crossed the distance to the front door in three giant strides and flung it open, hoping the neighbors would not have already fled. He caught them just as they were turning to retreat down the brick walkway.

“I am so sorry!” he said, causing them to turn back towards the doorway warily. Once they were facing him, the sheer force of Sam’s puppy dog eyes and sheepish grin were too much for mere mortals to resist. Their hesitant stares quickly turned back to the welcoming smiles they had been wearing before the door slamming incidence. “They” were a youngish man and woman, early to mid-thirties and most likely married. They had matching dark brown hair, his in a standard crew cut and hers just brushing her shoulders, and both wore the suburban weekend uniform of t-shirts and jeans. “We weren’t expecting anyone,” Sam continued contritely. “Dean here is just so concerned about the house looking nice for company and we’re still moving in.”

Dean shot his brother a look that clearly said, “I’ll kill you for that later.”

“You’re the one who slammed the door in the neighbors’ faces,” Sam’s return glance said just as clearly.

“Oh, we understand,” the woman said graciously, “We just noticed someone had moved in and we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. I’m Ellie James and this is my husband, Carl.” Carl offered his hand to each of the boys in turn. Sam smiled openly and Dean did his best to mimic the expression, but looked slightly pained as usual.

“Nice to meet you, Ellie, Carl,” Sam repeated their names to imprint them in his memory like any well-trained son of suburbia. “I’m Sam and this is my-“ he paused infinitesimally, “-partner, Dean.” Dean’s eyes widened and he was forced to fake a coughing fit to hide his shock. Sam was fairly certain he heard a few choice phrases between coughs. After a few moments, he had his expression under control and was able to effect a miraculous recovery. Sam winced in what the James’ would interpret as concern, but was actually apology and patted Dean’s back.

“Well,” Dean said, coughing a time or two more for effect, “It’s been real nice chatting with you, but there’s clearly something out in this fresh air that doesn’t like me, so I’d better get inside.” Catching the not-so-subtle hint, Carl smiled and placed a hand on his wife’s waist.

“We need to be going anyway,” he said, “Welcome to the neighborhood. If you need anything, come on by. We live over at 401,” he gestured across the street and slightly to the right at a white house with slate shingles and red shutters. Sam nodded.

“Thanks so much Carl, Ellie, see you later!” He shut the door as quickly as possible without seeming like he was slamming it. The thin veneer of cordiality was already fading from Dean’s face to reveal a look of murderous intent. They both waited a good count of ten and Sam glanced out the kitchen window to make sure the James’ were up the walk and out of earshot. Then all hell broke loose.

“PARTNER?!” Dean thundered. Sam flinched. Maybe the neighbors weren’t quite out of earshot after all.

“Dean, just let me explain,” he began placatingly, but Dean was not ready to be placated just yet. Sam let the unrelenting tide of profanity wash over him for a couple of minutes until he finally heard his brother say something that merited a response.

“And what makes you think they’re not crazy homophobes who’re going to come back here and murder us in our sleep?”

Sam mumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Dean snapped. Sam took a deep breath before repeating himself.

“I did an internet search. For the most gay friendly neighborhoods.”

Dean rocked back on his heels and stared. Sam babbled on, figuring it was best to get it all out at once. “I thought it would be easier, you know? Not having to hide what we do? If people think we’re lovers instead of brothers then we could—we could—“ He offered a crooked half-smile of apology for the chick-flickiness of his thoughts. “We could hold hands, or, you know, kiss—without having to worry about who might see.” Dean ducked his head, making that half smile, half grimace that meant he was both embarrassed and pleased and ran a hand through his short hair.

“You know this is insane, right?” He was mildly frightened by the kind of effort and thought Sam had obviously put into this whole thing. When his brother had said he had a surprise for him and it turned out to be a cottage, that had been startling enough, but Sam had clearly built a whole suburban dream up around it. Granted, it was a rather progressive vision of suburbia since they were supposed to be openly gay partners, but still.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, “It’s insane, but kinda nice too, right?”

Dean wasn’t sure about that. The fact that they had an actual white picket fence was creeping him out big time, but for Sam, he decided, he’d try.

“Yeah, Sammy. It’s pretty nice.”

He was rewarded by what he privately thought of as puppy kisses, though clearly he would die before revealing this to a soul. Sam was grinning and crowding into his personal space, pushing him back a couple of steps in his enthusiasm until he was pressed against the wall. His long arms wrapped around Dean’s shoulders as he kissed his eyelids, temple, up the jaw line, pausing to snap at the ear.

He settled at Dean’s lips, pulling insistently at the lower one with his teeth, then pushing for entrance with his tongue. Dean acquiesced easily and they explored the familiar contours of each other’s mouths a bit sloppily. Sam pulled away from the kiss and started licking and nibbling Dean’s neck.

Dean shuddered at the wave of heat that swept away the initially playful tone. A moan escaped him as he shifted his hips forward and found his brother as suddenly hard as he was. “Bed. now,” he managed to gasp. Sam’s answering growl made him even harder.

They wrestled their way out of the front hall, through the living room and up the stairs, shedding clothing in a haphazard trail in their wake. They half-playfully vied for dominance, pushing and shoving each other into various walls and objects as they made their way to the bedroom. Once there, both successfully undressed, they paused for a breathless moment, a good foot apart, sharing a charged look.

They came together again, gentler, but more intense. They kissed hungrily. Sam’s huge hands cradled Dean’s face as Dean’s fingers tangled in Sam’s curly hair. Then Sam was going to his knees almost reverently, his brother’s hands still in his hair.

He ran his tongue down one side of Dean’s cock and back, relishing the sharp intake of breath and the clenching of the hands on his scalp. He flicked lightly over the head and then down the other side. Dean’s breathing was becoming rhythmic panting. Sam licked up the underside slowly and Dean couldn’t keep his hips from twitching forward. “C’mon, Sammy,” he urged, a strained note of pleading in his voice.

Sam allowed himself a brief smirk before taking his brother in his mouth. He worked in and out in slow, sweet torture, swirling his tongue and humming slightly. The moaning pants he was forcing from Dean’s throat were nearly his undoing. He reached a hand down to stroke his own throbbing length.

Dean used the grip he still had on Sam’s hair to pull him back gently. Sam looked at him in confusion. “Shh, not like this,” he said. He drew Sam over to the bed, leaning backwards and pulling Sam with him so that he was pressing Dean into the mattress. Their cocks slid together, causing them both to gasp at the exquisite, almost painful sensation.

Neither of them could last long now and Sam was reaching a long arm toward the nightstand for the lube. He flipped the cap, raising up on his knees at the same time. In a moment, his slick fingers pressed against Dean’s opening, pushing inward, and stretching him open. His brother’s eyes rolled back in his head as he found a particular spot inside and stroked it.

“Need you inside me, Sammy,” Dean insisted and Sam was only too happy to comply. He withdrew his fingers and quickly slicked himself. Seconds later he was pressing the head of his cock against Dean’s entrance and pushing inward as slowly and carefully as he could, given the desperate pressure building in him. Dean was having none of it though and thrust his hips upward until Sam was buried to the hilt inside his brother. They paused for a moment, eyes meeting and Dean’s body expanded to accommodate Sam. Then they were moving, setting the rhythm together, at first slow then gradually faster and more frantic.

Sam moved a hand between them and grasped Dean’s cock, jerking him off to the rhythm of their thrusting. Dean came in moments, spurting up between them. That was all it took for Sam to follow his brother’s example, coming hard inside Dean.

They both collapsed breathlessly, Sam’s softening cock sliding out as he shifted so he was only putting half his weight on his brother. Dean chuckled, low and spent. “You know, Sammy,” he said speculatively, “There’s still some things I don’t think the neighbors need to know.” Sam laughed. He really had to agree.


End file.
